


Looking for Harbor

by gaygreekgladiator (ama)



Category: Spartacus Series (TV)
Genre: Episode Related, M/M, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-06
Updated: 2013-04-06
Packaged: 2017-12-07 15:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/750246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ama/pseuds/gaygreekgladiator
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nasir is the ocean in a storm, a force of nature. Castus isn't sure he could survive him. SPOILERS for episode 9, "The Dead and the Dying."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Looking for Harbor

Their meeting is like the gentle lapping of waves against a ship. Castus is used to the jostling crowd, and at first he takes little notice. But then _he_ smiles and it is sunlight on the water. Nothing more beautiful than gold-scaled sea.

He watches, he listens. He accepts apology, offered in haste and secrecy. He sees movements that speak of gentle heart, shining eyes that speak of pride, aborted glances that whisper of deep sorrows. They do not often speak, but Castus is lost and looking for harbor. It is enough.

\---

They call them games. They are not games. Castus's heart pounds as he watches, and feels a deep and abiding awe for the power of the gods. The power of _him_.

Rip tides. Hungry, swallowing waves. Winter storms whipping through once-calm seas, howling for tribute and snatching vengeance with cold, greedy, pleading fingers. He is a force of nature, and Castus tries to breathe past the terror clenching his throat but he knows, he _knows_ that he cannot weather this storm. He is a sailor. His instinct is to turn the sails and froth the water furiously with quick oars. There is no taming this, and he is humbled and afraid because he does not know how to help him survive. All he wants is for him to survive.

But his worry lasts only until he sees Agron and thinks, _of course_. No matter how many times the earth is trampled on, gouged, hollowed out, it remains. Agron remains. He goes to him, and though Castus does not hear his words and does not wish to, he can see the touch of hand to cheek, soft eddy meeting delicate sand.

He smiles sadly to himself. Pirate without ship. Sailor without crew.

Where is he going?

\---

"For Crixus," they say.

Then others. Names he does not and will never know; names that will never be uttered again. But they are spoken now, and his heart trembles to hear them. The words grow louder, carrying on the wind, and he feels them whispering on his skin. For Crixus, they say.

 _For Crixus_ , he says, meaning For Heracleo. Tryphon. His lost crew, lost brothers.

 _For Crixus_ , he says, meaning For me. (It does not matter if he deserves it or not; he may never get the chance again.) He lifts his hand in the air.

_For Crixus. For Crixus. For Crixus._

He can breathe.

_Home. Home. Home._


End file.
